Daniel would like to spend one, just one, of his university department drinking parties either a) not being forced into the role of the Sole Sober Babysitter because god knows no one else wants to do it or b) not feeling guilty and vaguely ashamed because he drank too much and threw up in a potted plant again. It’s the ‘threw up’ and ‘again’ parts that bother him, not being a menace to nature. Just like it’s the ‘sole’ and ‘babysitter’ parts he finds irritating; sobriety itself is not a bad thing. Fewer regrets in the morning and he’s cool with that. Though Daniel’s drunken messiness doesn’t even come close to Jisung’s—there’s an Instagram account dedicated to it for reasons.
He would take being boring and not Instagram famous over being stuck in Camp B tonight with the rest of the engineering department. Inside, his friends are still going steady, popping open bottle after bottle in their hurry to fuck up their livers. Or is it kidneys? Fuck if Daniel knows anything beyond ‘drinking is bad.’ And yet.
It’s only a couple of beers, they said. Have another one, they said. These shots are harmless, they said.
They are assholes.
Sitting out on the steps in front of the bar, he tips his head back and counts to fifteen. You can actually see the stars out tonight, gleaming like polished diamonds on black velvet. They could also be streetlamps, flying planes, angels, or UFOs, but he likes the sentimentality of starlight nights. And shiny things, even if they hurt his eyes and make his growing headache worse.
Daniel sighs and drops his head in his hands. He’d head home but he can’t remember the route right now. Or anything, really, aside from the fact that Jisung is supposed to be his ride home. By ride home, he means Jisung is supposed to carry Daniel home on his back. Make an attempt, at least. Usually it’s the other way around with more flailing, sloppy kisses, and drunken burping than necessary.
All this is telling him is that he needs new friends.
He’s about to raise his head when he hears a slurred voice above him. “Done for the night?” Daniel raises his head a fraction of an inch, then lowers it again with a groan. Movement: bad idea. “Man… I shoulda said down for the night. Seriously, you okay?”
Fighting back his mounting nausea, Daniel looks up. Standing above him is just about the best looking guy he’s ever seen. Gorgeous cheekbones, soft black hair, and a smile that, considering they’re both right outside a bar, has probably picked up its fair share of drunken messes to take home. Daniel suddenly, violently wants to be one of those messes. Which, hell, down boy.
He realizes a moment too late that they’ve been staring at each other in complete silence. “Hi.” Daniel says the most intelligent thing that comes to mind. “You have nice shoes.” He hasn’t even looked at the guy’s shoes. Who cares about some dude’s feet when his face is a gift from heaven?
The guy blinks at him, head tilted to the side. An uncomfortable pause stretches between them until the guy says, “Most people don’t compliment me on my shoes.” He sticks a foot out and wiggles it around. In retrospect, Daniel knows it was a stupid thing to say; the guy’s sneakers are worn and filthy.
Out of curiosity, he asks, “What do they compliment you on?”
“Three guesses.” The guy points to his face, a grin stretching across his lips. “What, you don’t see it? Just how drunk are you, buddy?” Without waiting for an invitation, he drops down on the step beside Daniel and stretches his legs out. “My face is probably the eighth wonder of the world.”
A laugh bursts out of his mouth. Daniel quickly covers it with both hands in case something worse comes out. He has to agree though. With a face that nice, you should be proud of it. His own is marginally less attractive—a lot less attractive, actually. Daniel is somewhere between decent and average on a good day, a solid six out of ten. He’s cool with that. Six a great number.
“I’m surprised you’re still conscious,” the guy continues, interrupting Daniel’s train of thought. “You were really knocking them out of the park there.”
Not by choice. A flush crawls up his neck; he’s embarrassed someone noticed. Up next on the saga of ‘how badly are Kang Daniel’s friends going to fuck things up for him: hot guy thinks he’s a drunkard.’ Is there any chance you find that charming, he wants to ask, but his mind is sluggish and tongue thick in his mouth. All Daniel can manage to say is, “Did you… follow me out here?”
“Depends. If you’re implying I tried to get you alone on purpose so I could hit on you, then no.” His companion laughs, and Daniel scratches his arm and awkwardly chuckles along. “I just wandered out here for some fresh air, though I guess I did get the idea when I saw you leave, so maybe? I’m not a serial killer or anything; don’t worry.” He stops, an expression of genuine distress crossing his face. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“Uh.” Daniel doesn’t know either. The guy has a nice voice though, one he can appreciate even through the slow-creeping headache. “Do you always talk this much?”
“Oh yeah. Can’t shut me up.” Daniel can relate. “If I’m bothering you, just tell me to fuck off.” The guy turns his head to look at Daniel, and Daniel can swear the brightest stars tonight are in the stranger's eyes.
… Or something like that. Wow, he’s gone.
Daniel tears his gaze away. “No, no. I’m just…” He trails off. Speaking is a real struggle. “Better at listening than talking right now.” It’s usually the opposite, but, you know, struggles. “Please don't ask me more than yes or no questions.”
His companion nudges Daniel’s foot with his own “Scared you’ll throw up if you open your mouth?” he asks knowingly.
“Gross,” the guy’s nose scrunches up as he laughs again, and Daniel feels a weird floaty sort of sensation in his stomach that may be unrelated to the alcohol. It’s a clear sound and makes him want to join in; he presses his lips together instead in an attempt to contain the urge. “Oh, but how come I’ve never seen you before tonight?” Seeing Daniel’s pointed look, he adds, “I’ll risk the puke; I want to know.”
“I dunno.” Daniel pauses for dramatic effect, or what could be dramatic effect. He’s actually trying to remember how to pronounce one of the words he wants to say. It finally comes to him and he grins proudly. “Maybe you never cared enough to look.”
The truth is probably closer to ‘they’re in different majors with different friend groups,’ but this sounds way cooler.
A pause stretches between them, then the guy lets out a low whistle. “Fuck, that’s deep. I got goosebumps.” Daniel watches as he rolls up his sleeve and sticks a thin arm out. “Feel them.”
Petting a guy’s arm seems like a bad idea, but not enough that Daniel doesn’t do it. He strokes it lightly with shaky fingers. “Goosebumps,” he agrees, then swallows back laughter mixed with the contents of his dinner. “Your skin is soft.”
“Yeah?” The stranger looks pleased. “Thanks.”
Maybe Daniel is drunk, but he’s not too drunk to realize that this is a thing and he’s sitting outside a bar with his hand on a strange guy’s arm, their feet touching, and the guy has this loopy, stupidly happy smile on his face which looks even brighter than it is because of the soft lighting here, and there are stars up there somewhere. So all in all, it’s kind of romantic and, like, he wasn’t looking to get laid tonight but maybe—
“Seongwoo! Get your ass back in here!”
The moment breaks. “Sorry,” the guy—Seongwoo—says, standing up. “I should probably get back in, but, gimmie your number if you don’t mind?” He shoves his hand in his pockets and pulls out his phone. Daniel stares at for a long minute before remembering that yes, this is something people do when they want to contact someone again, though he can’t understand why Seongwoo would possibly want to. Still, he nods wordlessly and takes the phone (after being distracted by how big his own thumbs are, wow).
Five seconds later, he runs into a snag.
The mildly problematic part is not that Daniel forgets his number for a second (he does, but then remembers it). It’s that, when it comes time to input a contact name, he realizes that ‘drunk guy’ won’t work because there are a distressing amount of ‘drunk guys’ saved as contacts. The logical thing would be to put his name, but he forgets that too and unlike the phone number, can’t remember it. Seongwoo’s friends are calling him inside and he can’t take much longer, so Daniel types in the first thing that comes to mind and hands it to the other man.
“Thanks,” Perhaps Daniel is drunk (he definitely is), but Seongwoo looks relieved as he pockets the phone. “I’ll call you later. Nice meeting you.” He wiggles his fingers in a little wave and gives Daniel one last brilliant grin.
“Same,” he says. Seongwoo vanishes and Daniel stares after him until he feels something coming back and lunges sideways.
When his friends come to fetch him ten minutes later, they find him hugging a potted plant and apologizing.
Daniel is on his third bowl of hangover soup (which tastes like dirty dishwater—but his roommates never wash the dishes so he can’t accuse them of anything either) when his phone buzzes. The unknown number should probably be a warning to not pick up the phone, but he hits answer on reflex and brings it up to his ear, spoon still in hand. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Seongwoo.” The voice on the other end is oddly familiar even if the name isn't. “From the bar last night. Outside the bar last night, actually.” Daniel drops his spoon with a clatter and nearly falls off his chair. From the sink, Jisung shoots him a puzzled expression. “I’m not hearing any sounds of recognition, but we talked? You complimented my shoes and touched my arm. It was kind of homoerotic.”
“Oh… oh yeah.” Daniel vaguely remembers their conversation and giving Seongwoo his number, but he never expected the man to call so soon. Or at all. From what he can remember, Seongwoo was—is—hot as hell with a face sculpted out of marble or something and Daniel failed to take advantage of their meeting by not flirting at all. What use was life handing you lemons in the form of attractive guys if you didn’t know how to use a juicer and just ended up squirting lemon juice into your eye? “What’s up?”
“Listen, I was calling to ask if you’re free tomorrow night.” This time, Daniel almost drops his phone in disbelief. The line isn’t even staticky, so he can’t doubt what he’s hearing. Seongwoo is asking him out? Why? “That is, if you’re interested and I didn’t completely chase you away or anything. I swear I’m a normal guy who’s asking you out on a normal date.”
“Why would you chase me away?”
On the other end, Seongwoo laughs. “My mouth scares people off sometimes.”
“I like your mouth,” Daniel blurts out. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jisung silently crack up.
Seongwoo is silent for a moment. Daniel thinks he’s fucked up until—”Yeah?” He can hear the smile in Seongwoo’s voice. “I think my mouth would like to thank you for that compliment.”
He swallows hard. “I like being thanked.”
“So I’ll take that as a yes for tomorrow then?”
They settle on a cafe and a time to meet at. Daniel’s still sort of in shock and doesn't really register it as Seongwoo says, “See you at three, Jisung.”
“See you—what?” But Seongwoo hangs up the phone before he can ask for a clarification and Daniel ends up speaking to the dial tone. Did he just call him Jisung? Why the fuck—
It takes him a minute but—“Shit,” he groans out, dropping his head into his hands. Shit. Of the two things he remembers most strongly from last night, giving Seongwoo his number was one of them, only he'd suffered a moment of extreme stupidity and… yep. He did put his name in as “Jisung,” didn’t he? And now Seongwoo thinks—
Jisung wanders over with a shit eating grin on his face. “So. Whose mouth do you like?”
Daniel picks up the spoon and flings it at him.
It’s not a crisis.
Jisung laughs for hours after Daniel tells him, but he also assures Daniel that it's a simple misunderstanding he can clear up during their date. He’s not sure if ‘simple’ is the word he would use, but he agrees. Jisung’s advice is generally good and in spite of everything, he trusts his opinion.
Except he gets tongue tied the minute he arrives at the cafe and spots Seongwoo sitting outside with his coffee—he's twice as handsome when Daniel is sober enough to appreciate it. This isn't a photoshoot, but the way the sunlight is hitting him and the cat-like grace with which he sits sure as hell makes it seem like Daniel’s walking into the middle of one.
Seongwoo’s face lights up when he spots him and waves him over. “Hey, glad you could make it,” he grins, and Daniel instinctively grins back as he slides into the seat opposite him. “I was worried for a second there.”
That’s something he didn’t expect to hear. “What do you have to be worried about?” Daniel asks, drumming his fingers on the table. Seongwoo doesn’t seem like the guy to have many worries, really. Daniel’s jealous; he tends to overanalyze.
But Seongwoo shrugs, his tone still light. “I dunno, I thought you might not show.” He grabs a bunch of napkins and wipes up a small spill, avoiding Daniel’s widened eyes. “I’m trying to do one thing that scares me every day and this,” he gestures to the space between the two of them, “qualifies.” Seongwoo glances up and smiles. “Naturally, I’m anxious.”
Daniel is at a loss. “Asking me out was scary?”
“A little,” Seongwoo admits. ”I don’t really do this kind of thing often.”
He finds that really hard to believe, given the state of Seongwoo’s long and extensive contacts list. “What was up with all the drunk guys saved in your phone, then?”
“Oh.” Seongwoo blinks, startled. It’s a guilty sort of ‘oh,’ like ‘oh, you noticed?’ or ‘oh, I can explain.’ Daniel leans forward and clasps his hands together on the table, waiting. It’s funny to see Seongwoo sweat a bit. “I end up with a lot of phone numbers when I go out, but I don’t usually call them in the morning.”
Daniel doesn’t doubt the first part, but it’s the second that sounds more dubious. Hard to think a guy like Seongwoo wouldn’t do anything with all of those numbers, but he supposes it makes sense for Seongwoo to have high standards. “Man, you’re a catch.” Belatedly, Daniel realizes he implied to himself that he meets said standards and what the fuck, at least he didn’t say it out loud.
“I called you though, didn’t I?”
Good point. “Yeah, why?” Daniel asks, curious. “I’m not exactly Mr. Charming.” He can be when he tries, but he was not trying that night. The only he was trying to do was keep the contents of his stomach where they should be (and failed at that too).
Seongwoo falls silent for a brief second and Daniel thinks he won’t respond. “Do you want the truth or do you want me to be romantic?” Seongwoo asks finally, and while there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, his eyes are steady and serious.
“Isn’t it kind of early in the date for either?” Daniel chuckles. He’s not sure if his reaction is out of nervousness or amusement (he never really does). Part of him is anticipating Seongwoo’s answer while the other part wants to drown himself in an iced Americano. Truth is scary.
“There!” Seongwoo claps his hands together and Daniel jumps in his seat. He puts a hand to his chest to calm his racing heart as Seongwoo slams his hands down on the table and leans forward. “That’s it! I saw you laugh at something Jaehwan said that night and I was sold right away.”
This is a joke, right? “My laugh is dumb.”
The corners of Seongwoo’s mouth lift. “I guess I’m into dumb.”
“Yeah, and that just means your taste is odd,” Daniel can’t help but smile back.
“People have said that to me before,” Seongwoo agrees. He leans back in his chair and laces his fingers behind his head. “Life’s pretty boring without a little oddity, though.”
Well. Ducking his head, Daniel rubs his nose and says, “I guess I like odd too.”
He orders an iced Americano and they continue talking. Seongwoo is a business major so that explains why Daniel hasn’t seen him around before. As it turns out, he’s also friends with Jonghyun and Minhyun, which in turn explains why Seongwoo was at a party he wasn’t invited to. The two tend to attract random hangers-on wherever they go and no one really questions it anymore. Usually, these shadows are younger (Hyunbin, Seonho) or annoying (Jaehwan). Seongwoo’s type is a first.
Their conversation veers in strange directions, including an illuminating tangent about Longcat. Daniel does learn that Seongwoo loves musicals (he’s preparing to audition for next semester’s production), playing the drums (“I think I just like being loud,” he says), and dancing when no one’s looking (Daniel’s pretty sure that’s a lie. Seongwoo seems like the type of person who wants you to look and imprint him in your memory). Coincidentally, Daniel also enjoys most of those things—and it’s easy to talk to Seongwoo about them.
His nerves melt away the longer the conversation goes on. Seongwoo is easy to relax around, sure, but there’s more to it. He doesn’t feel like he’s standing on attention the whole time. Daniel finds Seongwoo’s honesty refreshing. He feels like he can be himself in return, no bullshit, no fake bravado, just one awkward bundle of Kang Daniel.
By the time they finally run out of things to say, Daniel is a little bit in love and thinks Seongwoo might be too.
Seongwoo walks partway back with him, basking in the comfortable silence. Daniel sneaks a glance over at him when he thinks Seongwoo isn’t looking, but their eyes meet and they both burst into laughter immediately. His hand rests on Seongwoo’s shoulder as Daniel leans into him, and Seongwoo’s arm instinctively wraps around Daniel’s waist to steady them both.
And Daniel’s breath catches in his throat as Seongwoo’s face looms in front of him, the smile slowly shifting into a look of intense concentration. His eyes narrow as Daniel makes no attempt to move away. “I’m thinking about kissing you,” Seongwoo murmurs, and Daniel’s gaze traces the outline of his mouth, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
He meets Seongwoo’s gaze head on. “Why are you still thinking?”
It’s fitting that Seongwoo laughs as their lips meet. His hand moves up to the small of Daniel’s back as he presses him closer. Seongwoo tastes like vanilla and whipped cream and Daniel’s more of a chocolate guy but Seongwoo’s lips are soft and warm and he never wants him to pull away—
Daniel can sense Seongwoo grin and whisper something against his mouth once he breaks the kiss and steps back. The self-satisfied expression on his face is marred slightly by his red ears, and it’s so damn endearing he feels the need to cover his face before he ends up looking completely whipped or something (he is, but appearances matter).
Seongwoo hums tunelessly. “I’ll see you again later,” he says. It’s a statement, not a question. Daniel chokes out an agreement anyway. “See you later, Jisung.”
Wait, shit. “Seongwoo!” he calls out once he’s less punch-drunk from the kiss. But Seongwoo is too far away to hear him. Daniel would chase after him, but he’s too afraid of looking like a desperate creep, even if one half of that statement is true. Shit. He can’t believe he got so carried away by their date that he forgot to correct the misunderstanding over his name. So: Seongwoo still thinks he’s Jisung, and by god, Daniel doesn’t want to be Jisung. He’s cooler than Jisung! He doesn’t even LOOK like a Jisung!
He doesn’t look like a Daniel either, but that is beside the point.
Trudging home in silence, he ignores Taewoong’s attempts to make friendly conversation from the kitchen (and doesn’t ask why the man in question is standing there with no shirt on and a peanut butter jar in his hands) and makes a beeline for his room.
“How’d it go, Fake Jisung?” Actual Jisung yells from the couch.
Daniel groans and slams his door shut behind him.
It’s been three weeks since their first date. They’ve gone out twice more since then and Seongwoo still doesn’t know Daniel’s real name.
Daniel’s gotten somewhat used to being called ‘Jisung,’ though he occasionally forgets to respond and looks over his shoulder to check if Actual Jisung is lurking around instead. He can’t live like this. Daniel doesn’t lie comfortably. Untruths keep him on edge, and if he’s going to feel unsettled around Seongwoo, he would rather have it be because of the fluttering feeling in his heart than guilt.
But the chance to tell Seongwoo the truth never comes. The few times he thinks he might be getting somewhere, Daniel fumbles and lets the occasion pass him by. He’s a victim to crappy timing (and drunken stupidity). The longer this stretches on, the less inclined Daniel is to actually say anything.
Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. It shouldn’t be. But it would be awkward to correct Seongwoo now and Daniel doesn’t like awkwardness, not when he’s at the beginning of a race and hoping to make it to the finish line.
“At this rate, you’re going to be married with two cats and he’ll still be calling you Jisung,” Actual Jisung says over coffee.
“Wait, you think he’s a cat guy?” Daniel asks, perking up.
“Not the point, dumbass.” Jisung shakes his head affectionately. “Seriously, get it together before he starts introducing you as his ‘boyfriend, Jisung.’ Because, you know, I already have a boyfriend and I don’t want people on campus thinking I’m dating Seongwoo too.”
Jisung is (infuriatingly) right as always. Daniel sighs and slumps in his chair. “Fine, fine. I will.” Seeing Jisung’s skeptical expression, he adds, “I promise.” He definitely will the next time he sees Seongwoo, because he wants to hear how his name would sound coming from Seongwoo’s lips.
Days pass. Daniel doesn’t. Jisung nags at him every morning, but Daniel can’t seem to figure out what to say. It’s gotten to the point where it would be weird to admit he isn’t ‘Jisung’ now. There are misunderstandings and then there’s being a dumbass. This is definitely a part of the second category. “You’re digging your own hole,” Jisung says. “And stop stealing my name, seriously.”
It’s not like he can just walk up to him and say, “Hey man, my name is Kang Daniel, not Yoon Jisung. Sorry for the mix up there. Also sorry for not telling you even though we’ve been kind of dating for a month.” On the slight chance he’s read all the signals wrong and they aren’t actually dating, that would be devastating in more ways than one. He could always try to slip it into casual conversation, but how to do so without pissing Seongwoo off? Actually, that’s not fair; Seongwoo would probably laugh and ask him if he’s joking first.
Maybe he should just slip his student ID into Seongwoo’s pockets or something.
Jisung’s right. He’s digging his own hole. He’s digging the stupidest hole known to man and for no reason in particular. It’s not that deep, Daniel. Just tell him.
He can write Seongwoo a note, Daniel thinks. They’re sprawled out on the grass in the quad. Daniel’s textbook is open and balancing over his face, but Seongwoo’s actually trying to take notes with one hand and flipping through the pages of his textbook with the other. Daniel was doodling on the edges of Seongwoo’s pages before he started feeling sleepy and he still has the purple pen in his pocket—might as well put it to some use? Not the note, but there are other canvases around.
The textbook slides off his face and lands on the ground with a soft thump as he sits up and fishes around for the pen. Uncapping it, he leans forward and begins drawing a face on Seongwoo’s arm, who suffers it in silence while struggling through a dense section of his textbook. Daniel moves onto a cat, a bird with one wing, and finally an artist’s signature, a small and almost apologetic ‘Kang Daniel’ tucked underneath the cat’s tail.
“Jisung?” Seongwoo says suddenly.
Daniel waits too long before answering. Right, him. “Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
Well. It’s self explanatory, but maybe he shouldn’t have done it. “Writing… on your arm…?”
“While I’m studying?” Seongwoo shakes his head. Abandoning his textbook, he brings his arm closer and squints at Daniel’s bad doodles. “Kang Daniel,” he reads. Daniel is fully prepared for him to ask if that’s the name of his cat, but Seongwoo scoffs instead. “Wow, finally decided to use your own name, huh?”
The pen slips from Daniel’s hand. “What.” Did he hear right? Is earwax buildup fucking with him? Did he fall asleep and wake up in an alternate dimension? Is this all just a dream?
Seongwoo sighs. “Frankly, I’m insulted you thought I wouldn’t have figured it out by now,” he says, closing his books. “And I’m insulted it took you this long to say something.” Daniel opens his mouth to protest, but Seongwoo is apparently not finished yet. He holds up a finger to silence Daniel, who presses his lips together obediently. “I’m also insulted that on the off chance I didn’t figure it out, you were willing to let me look like an idiot for god knows how long. Do you know how many of my friends laughed just hearing the name Jisung?”
“How did you even—”
“I found Jisung’s Instagram.”
Daniel cringes. Of course it’s that demon account. Disregarding the fact that he’s sent videos to it on occasion, he’s having troubles coming to terms with the fact that he was outed by what he assumes is Jisung’s dumb interpretive dancing. “It’s not actually his Instagram, but it is about him, yeah.
“What I’m trying to say is, I was waiting for you to clear it up but you didn’t and I started thinking you were just fucking with me.” Exhaling, Seongwoo rubs at his arm. The purple smudges over pale skin and reminds Daniel of a bruise. He watches the face disappear under Seongwoo’s thumb, then the cat and the bird until only his name remains. “But here’s the thing: I like you a lot and I’m kinda hoping you like me too.”
“I like you too,” Daniel responds immediately. He grips Seongwoo’s hand with both his own. He does, and it’s frightening sometimes how easy Daniel finds being with Seongwoo, but it’s the good kind of fear, like a shot of adrenaline coursing through his system. The last thing he wants is for Seongwoo to think his feelings are reciprocated because of something dumb like this. “I—I should’ve just told you but I didn’t want to seem like an idiot. I mean, you know I am an idiot now so there was no point in waiting, but—” He breaks off. This isn’t helping the cause.
Seongwoo lets out a long, suffering sigh. “Lucky for you, I like idiots,” he says. Then, more gently, “I’m not mad, really. I get it. Stuff happens, anxiety is bad, so on.” His eyes soften as he glances down at their hands and squeezes Daniel’s fingers.
An involuntary laugh forces its way out of his mouth, loud and unattractive and slightly shaky. Daniel silently curses; why does he always do this at the wrong moment? “Still, I’m sorry. It was stupid.”
“It’s fine,” Seongwoo continues, smiling back. “As fun as it was watching you sweat over this for the past month, I wanted to clear it up sooner than later. Didn’t want to end up having to say ‘Jisung’ in bed or something.”
Laughter turns into choking noises as Daniel tries not to picture things best left till he's in private. "In bed? You were planning to take it that far?"
Seongwoo grins and leans forward. "You know me, forward thinking. Besides, you didn't think I wasted my movie theatre coupons on you to not get lucky, did you?"
"The Minions movie was part of your seduction plan?"
"Maybe?” He tilts his head. “Did it work?"
Daniel pauses. "Say my name again,” he says finally.
Seongwoo looks puzzled but clears his throat. "Kang Daniel,” he says slowly, softly, like he's a little embarrassed by the intensity of Daniel's gaze.
And Daniel likes the way Seongwoo’s mouth forms his name, likes the little inflections he puts on every syllable, likes the way it reverberates down to his toes. He swears ‘Kang Daniel’ has never sounded as lovely as it does out of Seongwoo’s mouth.
Daniel wants Seongwoo to say it a lot more.
He tugs on Seongwoo’s collar and pulls him in for a kiss. "It worked," he murmurs, and Seongwoo laughs and says it again and again in between kisses.
(“By the way,” Seongwoo says later. “You do know my last name is Ong, right? Not Hong?”
“Gong,” Daniel tries.
“You know what?” Seongwoo pokes his cheek and grins. “We’ll work on it.”)